


Wait All Night

by gaypilots (tofallinlovewithafridge)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Chair Sex, First Time, Lap Sex, M/M, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofallinlovewithafridge/pseuds/gaypilots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Get wings, get loved, get laid. Castiel's wings manifest one day. Things sort of go downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait All Night

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for spontaneous wing manifestation for no clear reason.

Sam stands up as soon as he hears the familiar ruffle of feathers that announces Castiel's arrival. Now that he's out looking for God, his visits are few and far between, and rarely just social.

However, Sam's greeting dies on his tongue when his peripheral vision is filled with black-blue. Sam can only stare at the angel on the other side of Bobby's library, panting and staring back at Sam.

“Cas?” Sam tries, not looking at the huge black wings protruding from Castiel's form. “What's up?” he asks carefully, stepping closer to Cas.

“My wings have manifested.” Castiel says.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam says, looking at them closer. They're enormous, wrapping around the room and overlapping on the wall opposite Cas. “Why?”

“I'm not sure,” Castiel responds, his wings ruffling. “I thought they might... Draw attention to me if I went out in public.”

“So you decided to hole up here until they un-manifest.” Sam finishes for him, sitting back down at the table. Whatever. Angels suddenly having literal, physical wings was new, but not the weirdest thing they'd dealt with. “Any idea how long this lasts for?”

“No, I'm afraid angelic lore is a little unreliable when it comes to spontaneous wing manifestation.” Cas says, tucking his wings in as best he can and cautiously stepping over to the table.

When he sits down, this wings still block Sam's view of the rest of the room.

“They're- they're huge, Cas,” Sam says, unable to focus fully on his research.

“They're of average size,” Castiel says, tone as flippant as Castiel can get. “You should see Gabriel's.”

Sam wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, really don't want to.”

Castiel nods, pulling a book across from Sam's side of the table. “What are we researching?”

* * *

 

When Dean and Bobby get back, Sam and Cas are on the floor, surrounded by books with Castiel's wings circling them both.

“Wow, Cas,” Dean says as he drops takeaway on the closest sofa to him. “Didn't expect you to be packing so much heat.”

Sam immediately gives him the 'don't-corrupt-the-Angel-of-the-Lord' look, but Cas doesn't turn around.

“I don't understand,” Cas begins, and Dean huffs. “Wings are not an angel's genitalia. Although it's true that the wings can be considered an erogenous zone, I have not had the opportunity-”

“Woah, enough about your sexual history, Cas.” Bobby interrupts. “How come you've got 'em all of a sudden?”

“We're not sure,” Cas replies, looking over his shoulder at Bobby, who sits down at his desk. “I'm,” he pauses, “ _hiding out_ here until they disappear again.”

Dean nods, fishing out his takeaway from the bag. “Cool. Can I touch them?”

Castiel's wings rustle, as though affronted. “I don't think that's wise.”

Dean looks away, huffing and nodding although obviously annoyed.

Sam looks between his brother and their angel. “How come, Cas?”

“An angel's wings, in this dimension, are pure energy condensed so much that they're tangible. To touch them would cause great amounts of pleasure to both the person touching them, and my vessel.”

“So what, you're just walking around with an orgasm machine on your back?”

“I'd prefer it if you treated myself and my wings with a little more respect, Dean.” With that, Castiel disappears, and they're left with the sound of wings rustling in the suddenly-too-empty room.

If there's a black-blue, light as air feather left in one of the books, well, Dean doesn't need to know about that.

* * *

 

The next time Dean's out and Sam's left in the motel room, Castiel appears almost as soon as the sound of the Impala driving away has faded.

“Dean really pissed you, off, huh.” Sam says, not looking up.

“I am an angel of the Lord,” Cas says, sounding tired. “It would serve him well to remember that.”

Sam hums in agreement. “How are the wings?”

“Cumbersome. They're more annoying on the physical plane than the celestial one.”

“I can imagine,” Sam says slowly. “Don't you ever get tired of them?”

“Regularly.” Castiel says, sitting down in the chair opposite Sam. “In Heaven, many of us groom each other's wings.”

Sam looks up. “Really?”

“Yes, it's- an enjoyable experience. Our true forms can handle the pleasure that comes from having our wings touched, and touching another's.”

“I thought you said you hadn't “had the opportunity”.”

“Not in a vessel,” Castiel says. “In Heaven, grooming another is a sign of them placing trust in you. On earth, my vessel would probably orgasm almost instantaneously, making it much more sexual than it is in Heaven.”

Cas says this with a steady gaze on Sam, heavy enough that it makes Sam look away.

“But your wings are okay to touch other things? Like, walls and stuff?” Sam asks, clearing his throat.

“Yes.” Castiel says, tilting his head.

“So if someone were to wear gloves while they groomed you...” Sam suggested, feeling ridiculously nervous about the proposition.

“I would feel the physical pleasure of having my wings groomed, but not to the same extent as I would in Heaven. Why?”

* * *

 

 

Sam feels kind of ludicrous as he stands behind Cas, wearing the rubber gloves that he'd managed to find in the motel's kitchenette.

“Just... Ensure none of your bare skin touches my wing.” Castiel reminds him. “I believe that the pair of us receiving such extreme sexual pleasure at the same time would be embarrassing for you.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, stretching his arm out and carefully running his fingers through the feathers next to Castiel's wing joint. Cas' overcoat and suit jacket are over the bed, slits cut in them both to accommodate Castiel's wings. There are two more cuts in the back of Castiel's shirt, and Sam is somewhat intrigued by the pale skin he glimpses there.

Cas moans, a little, involuntary sound, and it encourages Sam to keep going, to run his fingers between larger swathes of feathers. Some are dislodged and fall to the floor. Sam makes a note to pick them up later.

Cas is making noises that no angel should make, telling Sam where to stroke and where to scratch, there, just right, Sam. Sam knows it's an impossible task, to groom Castiel's wings in their entirety, so he spends perhaps ten minutes on each, staying close to the wing joint. When he steps away, he's smiling and pulling off the gloves, and Cas begins to stretch his back and shoulders. When Cas' hand reaches up to press at his shoulder blade, Sam steps forwards without thinking to press his own bare fingers there, rubbing lightly.

Castiel hums, then breathes out Sam's name, spurring the man on. Sam moves his hand so he's digging into the space between Castiel's shoulder blade and his spine, and Cas is whining before Sam is hit with such pleasure that it's white hot. He pulls away like he's been burnt, panting and rock hard in his jeans. Castiel is moaning loudly in front of him, hands clutching the edge of the table as he doubles over.

“Cas?” Sam asks, breathless as he ducks under Castiel's wings, which are now quivering and raised to the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

Sam kneels in front of Cas' chair. The angel takes a moment before looking up, his face red and pupils blown. “I believe you may have accidentally brushed a couple of my feathers.” Cas tells him, his voice even deeper than usual.

Sam's eyes go straight to Cas' crotch, a tell-tale wet patch forming and staining his slacks. “Cas, I'm-”

Cas interrupts him. “I apologize, Sam.”

“No- what- I'm sorry, Cas, I-”

The ruffle of feathers and the sensation of wind against his face. Castiel disappears, and Sam is left alone, crouching on the floor of a motel room, with pre-come dampening the front of his jeans.

“Brilliant,” Sam sighs, checking his phone to see that Dean isn't outside before tugging off his jeans and underwear.

When Sam comes, a few short strokes later, the image flashing through his head is of pale skin and black-blue feathers beneath him.

* * *

 

It's another two weeks before Sam sees Cas again. Dean calls him down, and he angel-poofs into existence in the back of the Impala, his wings bunched up around his shoulders. Sam's pretty sure they're blocking Dean's view through the rear mirror, but it's the middle of the night, so he guesses it doesn't really matter.

Sam turns around briefly, and immediately wishes he hadn't. Cas is staring back at him, even as he speaks to Dean.

Cas is doing the angel head tilt again, his eyes narrowed curiously.

Sam's pretty sure his own features are arranged in a more 'deer-in-headlights' kind of look.

Cas updates them on how the search for God is going- badly, apparently- and Sam turns back around, facing the road and wondering if maybe this car journey could become any more awkward.

That's before Castiel turns to Sam.

“Sam, I am deeply sorry if I caused you to be uncomfortable the other week. It was not my intention, and I take full responsibility.”

Sam's busy figuring out how to say 'Sorry I made your vessel orgasm' without Dean figuring out that's what happened when he realizes Castiel's poofed out of existence again.

Dean's looking at him, one eyebrow raised. “What happened with you and Rain Man?”

Sam presses himself back into his seat. “Nothing, really,” he says, faking a smile. “Just Cas being Cas, I guess.”

Dean looks at him for a moment more, then turns and looks back at the road. “Okay,” he says, because if Sam doesn't want to talk about it, he isn't gonna push it.

* * *

 

 

When Cas finally does turn up again- and, even better, somewhere that he and Sam can have a private conversation- it's in Sam's dream.

In his head, Sam's in the Impala. He has no idea where he's meant to be going, but he knows he has to get there quick. And, because it's a dream, he doesn't swerve the car at all when Castiel appears next to him.

Sam slows down, becoming much more aware of his dream-self, and the speed at which his dream-self is driving. “Cas. Where have you been?”

Castiel doesn't look at all out of place in the Impala, which, _weird_. He fixes Sam with a dead-pan stare. “Everywhere.”

Sam nods. “Cool.”

They drive on for a couple of miles in silence. Sam's wondering what he should be saying when Castiel turns to him and urgently says, “Pull over.”

Sam does so almost immediately, parking the car on the verge of the road and turning to Cas to find him much, much closer than before.

“You'll have to excuse me,” Castiel says. Sam doesn't move. “My kissing skills are based more on theory than practice.”

That's how Sam ends up making out with an angel, in his brother's car. (And why Sam wakes up twisted in the sheets, and absolutely rock-hard.)

It's also how their relationship starts.

* * *

 

Normally, it's more than just a booty call. Normally, Cas has some kind of information that he thinks would be of value to the Winchesters.

This time, Cas gets into Sam's lap, his knees either side of Sam's thighs, and grinds down onto him.

“Cas,” Sam says, his hands landing on Castiel's hips. “I thought we were taking this slowly.”

“I'm an angel,” Castiel says. “I can see your dreams, Sam.”

Sam's getting pretty good at telling which dreams are angel-fuelled, and which are just his own subconscious. And so what if he'd had a totally un-angelic dream about doing just this with Castiel? That was one time.

Sam moans, but he's kissing Castiel, and neither of them know if it's a noise of protest or of encouragement.

But Sam's hands are gripping Cas' hips, pulling the smaller man's crotch against his own, and Castiel- Castiel's moans are even better than Sam had thought they would be, more like purrs than anything else.

Sam is rock-hard in his jeans, one hand moving to push Castiel's trench coat off.

Cas is grinding down hard on Sam, following suit and pushing Sam's jacket off before putting his hands on Sam's chest, like he's not entirely sure what to do next.

“Cas,” Sam groans, tipping his head back and exposing his neck to the angel. Castiel takes full advantage of this, dipping his head to mouth at the exposed skin of his throat.

Sam encourages Cas to take off his suit jacket, but stops the angel from pulling off his tie.

“Wanna see you like this,” Sam says, running his eyes down Castiel's body.

Cas' response is a throaty groan of Sam's name, hooking his fingers under the collar of Sam's shirt and pressing their bodies fully together. His wings are wrapped around the two of them, and the chair they're on, shielding but carefully not touching Sam.

Sam's got one hand insistently rubbing Castiel's erection through the cloth of his slacks as Cas unbuttons Sam's shirt, leaving it hanging open over his tight grey t-shirt.

Castiel's lips are parted slightly, slightly bruised, and his breath is hot against Sam's mouth.

“Cas- oh, Cas, want you so much- want to be inside you, wanna feel you around me-”

Sam can't even stop himself, just tells Cas all the dirty things he wants to do to him between harsh kisses.

“Sam-” Castiel's voice is low and rough, and Sam pulls away to look him in the eye, panting slightly. “Sam, I want you to fuck me.”

The word is clumsy on Castiel's tongue, and Sam finds it incredibly hot, smiling as Castiel presses forwards to lick into his mouth.

Sam unbuttons Castiel's slacks, pushing a hand in as their kisses start becoming softer and more drawn-out.

Cas' breath hitches as Sam starts stroking him gently, and Sam smiles again. His other hand untucks Castiel's shirt before cupping his ass, pressing him forwards.

Castiel pulls one hand away from where it had been tangled in Sam's hair, stretching his wings out and pointing an open palm at Sam's duffel bag.

Sam's confused for a moment as Castiel pulls away, clambering off of Sam before pressing the condom and lube he'd retrieved from Sam's bag into his palm.

Sam looks up and into Castiel's eyes, and wow, where does an angel learn how to do 'imploring' that well?

“Sam,” Castiel says, his eyes wide and honest, “I trust you to do this.”

Sam is suddenly and embarrassingly breathless, and smiling a little giddily. He nods.

“We should probably move to the bed,” Sam says, beginning to get up, but Castiel stops him with one hand.

“No,” Cas says. “I want to do it like this.”

Sam can't help but think it would be easier to get on the bed, but he's not about to try and convince Cas of this. Instead, he gestures for the shorter man to turn around, leaning forwards and pulling his pants and underwear down.

He guides Castiel back, instructing him on exactly where to place his legs so Cas is bent over, arms braced on the arms of the chair and facing away from Sam. Castiel's wings are stretched away from the pair of them, Sam careful not to accidentally press his forehead against them.

As Sam warms the lube between his fingers, he can't help but wish he could see Castiel's face. However, when he presses one finger against Cas' hot, tight entrance, he's pretty happy about getting this view instead.

It means he can watch Castiel's hole flutter as Sam slides his index finger all the way in, as well as feel it. It means he can watch as Cas takes another finger, pressing alongside the first and crooking slightly to find the angel's prostate.

It means he can see just how open Cas is when he withdraws his fingers completely, covering a third in lube as well.

The whine Cas makes is high pitched, and tails off to a full-blown growl towards the end.

“Yes, Sam, need it.”

Sam hits Castiel's prostate once more on his way out, making the angel grunt.

“Want you to turn around,” Sam says. “Want to see you.”

When Castiel gets up, Sam unbuttons his jeans and pushes them and his boxers down around his thighs, exposing his cock and rolling on the condom.

Cas straddles him again, looking at Sam expectantly.

Sam covers his cock in lube, trying to make this as painless as possible.

“This is gonna hurt.” Sam warns, making sure Cas knows exactly what he's getting himself into.

“Sam, I have smote hundreds of demons just by touching them. If I find this experience unpleasant, I am sure I will be able to make it stop.”

Trust Cas to be condescending even as Sam's lining his cock up with Cas' entrance.

“Sure thing, Cas.” he says, tip barely pressing against Cas' hole.

Sam hisses as he guides Castiel's hips down slowly, letting him sink down onto his cock.

Castiel's head is tipped forwards, top of his head pressed against Sam's chest as he lowers himself down, inch by inch.

Sam keeps himself in check, trying not to say anything that Cas could construe as blasphemous. He moans out Cas' name, losing himself in the sensation of Cas impaling himself on Sam's cock, so slowly.

The angel settles on Sam's dick, and, wow, Sam never would have thought he was this depraved. Werewolves, demons... None of it really matches up to being inside an angel of the Lord.

He takes a moment, and Cas notices.

“Sam.”

“Sorry, I'm just...” Sam looks up to find Cas' eyes level with his, and he leans in to kiss already swollen lips.

Sam's hands have moved up so he's gripping Castiel's waist, and Cas shifts a little, and clearly Sam's cock brushes Castiel's prostate, because the noise that just came from Castiel was neither human nor angelic.

“Cas, just like that.” Sam breathes when Cas wrenches their mouths apart. “Come on, do it again.”

Castiel raises himself up just a little, pushing back down easier than before, his wings bouncing slightly with the motion. Sam's moan is rough and broken, guiding Castiel's movements at first but then just leaving his hands there as Cas finds a rhythm, fucking himself in shallow movements on Sam's dick.

It isn't enough, not for Sam, and Cas seems to realize this because he changes his movements, wings pulling in around them as Castiel grinds down, gasping with his eyes cast downwards.

Sam can't stop watching Cas' face, the way blue eyes scrunch up then open wide, his mouth open and panting, hot and wet against Sam's collarbone.

Cas is tight, so tight and just perfect around him, but it's not enough to take Sam over. He's on the verge of begging, bucking his hips up as best he can, before he realizes what he can do.

Sam uses one hand to still Castiel's hips, pressing him down even further on his cock. In the same instant, he reaches out with his other hand and grabs Castiel's wing.

Sam lets go like the wing is white-hot, and he can't find enough air, choking back a scream and arching his back as he claws his nails into the skin at Castiel's hip. It's too good, he can't handle so much intense pleasure at once, and he's incoherent.

Castiel's arms are spread out, his wings aloft and fully spread, suddenly less corporeal and going through the motel walls. Cas' head is tipped back, and it's a good thing that Sam's eyes are shut because Castiel's glowing with his grace, his eyes shining as he orgasms, messy over his shirt and tie as well as Sam's tee-shirt.

Sam slumps backwards, bringing Castiel with him, because Sam needs to catch his breath even if Cas doesn't.

“Maybe next time, we'll get more clothes off,” Sam says, trying to subtly shift Castiel's weight off him. Cas has other ideas, bringing himself off Sam's cock and curling up to Sam's chest.

Sam laughs, then moans. “Come on, Cas, we'll end up with our shirts stuck together if you don't move. Do you even know how clothes work?”

“Again, my practice in undressing is mostly theoretical.”

“I'll show you next time, then.” Sam says, bringing a hand up and tipping Castiel's head so Sam can kiss him again. Cas makes a pleased noise, and Sam resigns himself to a nap in the uncomfortable chair, covered in his own come and with a lap full of angel.

This lasts for a whole twenty-five minutes before Dean comes bursting in.


End file.
